


Queen of all Thedas and Tea Parties

by snarry_splitpea



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 04:20:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4421102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarry_splitpea/pseuds/snarry_splitpea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vivienne was the toast of the town in Val Royeaux.  After relocating to a remote part of Ferelden, she finds that her wardrobe and word play are barely impressive.  She resents the happy couple next door that all the locals seem to fawn over.  Eventually, Vivienne realizes that all she needs to do to be competitive and fit in is be nice.  She, perhaps, takes the niceties too far.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Queen of all Thedas and Tea Parties

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sorrowfulcheese](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorrowfulcheese/gifts).



"Sebastien, dear.  The movers seem to have chipped every cup we own," Vivienne grumbled from the doorway of her new home.  She'd just levitated all their china into the garbage can.  Even her mugs.  Even the porcelain platter that always made her want to think of the mother she couldn't remember.  Even her fucking princess plate from the first and last time she'd ever gone to a themepark.  She'd taken care of that thing for almost 15 years, and the moving service couldn't handle it for a couple of days!  She wasn't looking forward to even opening the boxes with her framed diplomas and photos.

Bastien de Ghislain, a man she often referred to as her patron and mentor, was bent over near the mailbox.  There was a small bed of flowers ringing the aluminum fixture that he'd commented on when they saw the house advertised, online.  She rolled her eyes as the old man picked and poked leaves to see which plants he could salvage.  She didn't have the heart to tell him that tacky aluminum mailboxes with flowerbeds were not her style & she'd dig the whole thing up the minute he returned to his wife.

"You're kidding," Bastien chuckled.

Vivienne groaned out her frustration. She didn't even want to argue with him, again, about how he never seemed to care about anything that bothered her.

"Enjoy sipping your tea from styrofoam!!" she called out to him as she retreated into the house.  

Though her destination was lackluster, the flight from Val Royeaux had been everything she loved about travelling.  Gourmet dinners, plush seats, and highly personalized service.  Bastien had held her hand in his sleep while she chuckled her way through another viewing of "The Devil Wears Prada."  He'd purchased a new Chanel bag for her in the airport and she'd spent the entire flight holding it in her lap.  Clutching it as  if it were more a boyfriend than him.

She imagined he was still in the yard chuckling to himself.  He thought her aggravations were adorable.  It was the only true sacrifice she made for his age.  He was energetic in the ways that mattered to her and age would never dull his sharp features.  Bastien was a man that became more handsome with every grey hair and every wrinkle.  She was lucky in that way.  

Yet, she hated the way he smirked at her anger.  She burned hot and fast, quickly cooling into sneaking mischief.  Bastien loved the sly snake he'd found quickly climbing the ranks of the Orlesian military.  Never harmful, but never truly open.  He'd taken her under his wing to mold her into the young politician she'd become.   Their romantic involvement seemed inevitable the moment they'd met.  Still, it took years for either of them to relent.  Romance changed very little about how he treated her.  He'd already guaranteed her comfortable living outside the military's barracks for the rest of her life.  He'd already pushed her into the highest paying rank she could reach at her age and with her experience.  He'd already showered her with gifts.  Falling into bed was only a short stumble from being his protege but she'd never felt pressured. He'd never felt pressured, either.  

She'd always be grateful for the attention and subsequent affection he'd bestowed upon her.  Despite her talent, she knew that an orphan mage didn't acquire the power the country had relinquished to her without the backing of someone like him.  Bastien had been Born wealthy.  Born royal.  Born to be one of the greedy hands that pushed the pawns of government.  Bastien de Ghislain had seen in her someone that could be an advocate for mages without dismantling the system that perched him at the top.

Until the rebellion.

The mages had started a war.  Or, perhaps, the Templars.  It truly depended on whom one asked.  In any case, Vivienne knew she was safer in the middle of nowhere than in the middle of the mansion he'd built for her.  Vivienne had been perceptive.  Some accused her of clairvoyance.  Others said she'd had a secret hand in the revolts.  In any case, she managed to escape the worst of the fledgling revolution with her life and career in tact.  She'd silently ended her campaign for re-election while still in office.  She'd applied for early retirement from the military.  She left Orlais as a willing expat instead of as an exiled tyrant.  

In Ferelden, Vivienne would have every luxury she'd always loved, perhaps with fewer fancy hats.  It would be torture.  Yet, Vivienne had become one of the leaders of the greatest country in all Thedas after being born with the magic most citizens scorned and to a family that couldn't keep her.  She'd simply focus on building herself up, once more.  Bastien would still be only a telephone call away.

By the time Bastien was letting the tacky screen door slap closed, behind him, Vivienne was unpacking their tea kettle.  The prospect of sitting on still-wrapped couches and having food on disposable dishes made her nauseous.  This was no way to start her new life.  This was no way to say goodbye to the man she dearly loved.

Just as the kettle was starting to boil and her misery was truly taking root, a series of heavy knocks rattled the same screen door, making both she and Bastien jump.

"Sebastien, I'll check the door."

"Thank you, dear."

They had an understanding of one another.  Bastien was more than happy to give her the world, but once seated, he was not easily moved.  Vivienne took quick steps through her kitchen threshold, down the hall, and into her foyer.  She'd taken care to hang a mirror near the door the moment they'd arrived and, after sweeping away debris from the movers tracking up her doorway, she'd put down a rug, her coat-rack, and a small console table to lay her keys.  With all the boxes stealthily tucked in her den, the foyer almost made the home look truly settled.  She was a fan of such illusions.

Iron Bull had watched her twist her way down the hall.  Her wide hips making tiny figure-eights as she walked.  The tiny apron at her waist gave a house-wife vibe to the fitted jeans, knee-high riding boots, and long-sleeved tee with the plunging V-neck.  It was hard to pull his eyes away from her full and heavy breasts, but he fought & won that battle quickly.  He didn't want to be rude to his new neighbors.  He did wonder, knowing he'd never truly find out the answer, whether or not she had to glue that shirt down to get it to sit in such a perfect way.  How did it look so fitted and taut?  Was it a bodysuit?

"Yes, hello," Vivienne was saying.  Iron Bull snapped out of his reverie on the state of her perfect cleavage, thankful that he'd averted his eyes to the top of her doorframe, ages ago.

"Oh, uh... hi."

Vivienne squinted her eyes at the Qunari in her doorway.  He was so tall and so broad that he'd need to fold himself in and twist himself around just to get through her human-sized doorway.  She was, temporarily, drawn to the tattoos on his chest, but knew it was impolite to stare.  Most of the Qunari she'd encountered on the plane and on her way to her new home wore Ferelden clothing.  This one was topless and wearing grey sweatpants.  She assumed he lived nearby or just liked the Qunari way of running around half-dressed. In Val Royeaux, Qunari were a less common sight and she was, indeed, tempted to stare.  Her eyes found his eyes after a glance over his rippling pecs, though.  She didn't want to be rude.

It was then that the Tevinter popped into view.  His handlebar mustache revealed a quirkiness that Vivienne was immediately sure she'd find annoying in the future.  Yet, his style was the best she'd seen since leaving Orlais.

"We're the Pavus's.  From next door," the Tevinter introduced himself as Dorian after that.

"We saw the moving truck this morning on the way to work and thought we'd invite you to tea once we got home," the Qunari that Vivienne then found out was Iron Bull gave the invitation with a smile and a slight bow.  The bow felt mocking for some reason and she caught Dorian kicking him lightly in the shin.  

"Married?" Vivienne caught the question leaping off of her tongue before she could catch it.  Both men immediately stiffened.  Their faces seemed to darken like both their moods had gone immediately cloudy.

"Yes, we are.  Three years and counting.  Proudly so," Dorian's chest had even puffed out as he spoke.  The buttons on his Armani dress shirt pulled slightly and Vivienne thought that, if not for masterful craftsmanship, they'd surely pop off.  The suit and been tailored to show off his every asset.  She couldn't help but admire him for wanting it that way.

"Oh, I meant no offense!  I just, somehow, hadn't realized Ferelden had caught up with the rest of the world."  She fought not to cringe.  She'd, again, said something unnecessarily offensive.

"Ah, Tevinter still needs to catch up," Iron Bull added.

"Considering Qunari marriage can barely be called such, I don't think you should critic..."  It was as if Dorian had forgotten where he was and suddenly remembered with a glance at Vivienne.  It was obviously an argument they'd had before.  Perhaps one they'd never stop having.

"I'm so sorry, loves.  I'd love tea... if you'll still have me," Vivienne did her best to show the utmost repentance.

"Oh, of course we'll still have you!  We've been dying to see who was over here since we caught a glance of the truck," Iron Bull immediately brightened and backed up to allow Vivienne to step outside, finally.

"Just tell her we're nosy, why don't you?"

"Ah, anybody would be curious.  Right... uh," Iron Bull asked.  He realize she'd never given her name.

"Oh, I'm Lieutenant de Fer... my friends call me Lieutenant Vivienne."

"Your friends call you Lieutenant?" Dorian asked.

"Miss Vivienne if they're nasty," came Bastien's voice from behind her.

"Oh, Sebastien, don't embarrass me!"

Bastien hugged her from behind and introduced himself.  Dorian immediately recognized the name and suddenly seemed incapable of containing himself.

"Your... wife?" he asked.

Vivienne and Bastien were so accustomed to that reaction that they couldn't bother to be upset.  Despite the fact that the man had his arms around her waist and they laughed like they'd been married a decade, Vivienne shrugged and reintroduced the man as her mentor.

Dorian nodded slowly in understanding as Iron Bull grinned from ear to ear and decided that he loved the two of them, already.

"So, about that tea," Sebastian asked and the Pavus's turned around to lead them home.


End file.
